Between the Lines
by 95winters
Summary: "When I tell you I'll be fine, I still want you by my side. Please just try to read between the lines." - Beartooth. A collection of just-for-fun oneshots of Steve and Bucky. No slash, just Steve and Bucky friendship feels. Please review, let me know if I should continue, tell me if it made you smile, what you thought of the characters in the situation, anything. Thanks!
1. Classic

**Classic**

The sky was blue and the birds were singing outside of the small car headed north up to New York State, with not a car in competition of the highway. Bucky sat silently next to Steve, who was enjoying the smooth ride as well, and was clearly comfortable enough to have the soft strains of classical music pouring from the radio.

"Geez, man, do you still listen to this on a regular basis?" Bucky couldn't take it anymore; they had only been on the road for about a half an hour, but Steve's enjoyment definitely outweighed Bucky's. "C'mon, I mean, we're going forward, not Bach." And with that, he leaned forward and fidgeted with the buttons until he found a classic rock station.

Steve, still not totally over Bucky's terrible pun, frowned when he heard the interesting sounds coming from his radio. "That is more like it," Bucky said as he stretched out and put his feet on the dash.

"Bucky, no. I know this stuff is new to you, but I can't handle it right now. It's not my thing…" Bucky wasn't exactly listening, though. He was enjoying this, this new classic rock. Still classic, not boring. Steve had to giggle a little as Bucky lip-synced and danced as much as he could in a car. Occasionally, after a really good lyric, he would make that face that always made Steve laugh, where Bucky furrowed his brow and pushed his lips together, bobbing his head to the steady strumming.

"Alright, alright seriously, Bucky. You look ridiculous." Steve couldn't deny he was amused, but he sure did insist on having his classic_al_ on. Either way, maybe they should just have it silent. To prevent fighting on their first road trip, Steve switched off the music altogether.

Bucky relaxed back at his seat, and the both of them together stared silently out the window. Steve was content, used to silence for his personal thoughts, but it took all of about 5 minutes of soundless agony before Bucky was finally fed up. "Are we there yet?" He asked.

Steve turned his head from being propped up by his left hand to give Bucky an incredulous look. "Like, how much longer?" Bucky asked further.

Steve sighed and turned back to the road. "Bucky, we just left D.C."

Bucky fell silent and let another minute go by. "Are we there _yet_?"

"Do you want to take the wheel?"

"Me? Take the wheel? Well, I could, but we both know what happened last time I did that on a highway."

It was meant to be a joke, but it didn't come out like one. Bucky's own bitterness towards himself seeped through the car air and surrounded them. Both were quiet. Bucky set his jaw, upset with himself for failing again to refrain from bringing up those memories and looked out the window.

Steve looked over at Bucky, reading his thoughts like an open book, and switched on the classic rock station.


	2. Marshmallows

**Here's another. Please let me know what you think. Any feels? Whatever. I just like feedback **** I take ideas, too. I just like to write Steve and Bucky stuff. This one is an idea someone gave me on Tumblr. Enjoy!**

**Marshmallow Bed**

The ceiling was the same it had been every day. White. Smooth. The sunlight came in from the window behind the bed, creating a thin diagonal stream across the ceiling. Even after waking up for the second time that morning, Bucky still didn't want to get up.

It was always hard, having to face everything. Even the fact of existing, of thinking. He had finally mastered falling asleep, and now getting out of bed was a whole other issue. Steve was probably back from his morning run already. Bucky knew he should go and interact with him, say good morning. But sleep had become so welcoming, so warm. Bucky would always invite upon the hours of lost consciousness, and the sleeping pills made that possible.

The truth was, things _were_ good. He wasn't with Hydra anymore, and that fact alone was a major step up. Steve had been great to him, letting him share his apartment, spending time with him just so he didn't end up wandering the streets again or in some sort of trouble. There was reason for things to be good, for Bucky to be okay, but some days he just _wasn't. _

After a few more minutes, Bucky pulled himself out of bed. Didn't bother to make it look nice – he might be back. In the kitchen, he saw Steve at the dining room table, reading the newspaper. That guy was always checking up on this country. Next to him was an open bag of marshmallows. Bucky sat down across the dining room table form Steve, who didn't look up until he heard the chair move.

"Hey, Buck." Steve smiled that warm smile that brought Bucky back to the comfort of simpler times. Bucky smiled back and dug his hand into the bag of marshmallows. His favorite. He remembered when Steve and he used to make s'mores over the iron furnace on the days that Steve didn't want to go home alone. It was always nice for Bucky to have someone besides his parents in the house then, too.

"Sleep well?" Steve had put the paper down, full attention on Bucky now. Bucky nodded, looking elsewhere – anywhere but Steve's eyes. He had, but he didn't want to go into detail about how hard it was to get _out_. About how the nightmares made it hard to face the day. About how the time he actually fell asleep, he was too tired to do anything.

Steve began talking about his morning, what he was reading, anything, anything to fill the space when Bucky didn't feel like talking. Steve could always sense how Bucky was feeling, whether he was tired or worn, or up for anything. "Let's do something today." Steve said abruptly, changing the subject. He needed to get Bucky out of the house.

Bucky smiled and nodded, again. "Okay."

A day out with Steve sure was fun, but the day was over now and Bucky had to get back to his bed. He was tired as hell, but that didn't make it easier. He should be up still, _doing _something. His mind shouldn't rest. Whenever he let it, it took off on his own.

Still, Bucky laid down on his bed. While he battled with himself, trying to think out ways he could still live with himself, he eventually fell asleep.

When Bucky woke up the next morning, it was the same white ceiling. The room was the same. Except for one thing: on the night table next to him, there was a simple white marshmallow, decorated with a blue food-coloring smiley face. Around the outside of the marshmallow was written "don't be blue today" in more food coloring. Underneath it was a note, which read:

_It's your bed, isn't it? It's too soft. Like a marshmallow; feel like you're gonna sink right to the floor. Where you think you belong. What you think you deserve: the cold, hard ground. I get it. I've felt it. But you can't keep doing this to yourself, Buck. It's not true. I hate to see your torture on your face. Let yourself rest, you need it. And I need you. _– Steve


	3. All Star

**All Star**

"Remember baseball?" Steve threw the question over his shoulder as he led Bucky to the local park, walking a little too fast if you asked Bucky.

"I was never as into that as you were." Steve had been really into baseball when they were kids. Although the Little Leagues hadn't actually been organized officially until 1938, they still claimed it as their own pastime. Bucky had never heard the end of how they were going to play baseball at every chance, even if they had to be in the war. They had never really gotten that chance, though.

Steve finally slowed down a bit for him. "Yeah, but we had fun. Like we will today." They did, Bucky hadn't ever cared what they did when they had free time together. Steve threw his arm around Bucky and began to lead him towards the baseball diamond in the center of the park.

"Ow," Steve jerked away. It was a warm day, and they both had t-shirts on. But that meant that the sun had easy access to Bucky's left arm, heating up the metal like a toaster. It had caught Steve's arm just briefly when he went to put his arm around him. Even so, Steve knew he was too quick to burst out.

Bucky's concerned expression immediately made Steve regret his reaction. "I'm sorry!" Bucky apologized quickly and earnestly, believing it was his fault.

_Damn it, _Steve thought to himself. And Bucky was just now comfortable enough to wear short sleeves in public. "It's fine, really, I'm okay."

By now, they had reached the playground, where Steve smiled back at the few kids who were staring at them. "So you're still like a hero around here, huh?" Bucky asked him with a smirk. Steve just shrugged.

When they looked forward, a little blonde girl had come up to them. Expecting to hear more adoration for Steve, Bucky looked over at him to see his reaction. Instead, the little girl gently touched the fingers on Bucky's left hand. He whipped his head down as she said "Whoa…"

He waited for questions, waiting for her to be afraid of him, of whatever happened to him.

"It's beautiful." She said, smiling up at Bucky. His worry melted away, along with his heart.

"Thank you." He said softly. The girl just smiled at him again, bigger this time, then turned and skipped away. Steve was grinning, too. Bucky had needed that. He wouldn't have listened to Steve no matter how much he told him that he loved his arm, that it didn't make him any less Bucky to him. Now they were going to have fun, damn it, if it killed them.

They arrived at the baseball diamond and Steve retrieved the bag of equipment from behind the bleachers. He was smiling widely, ready to make it the best day ever for Bucky. Some sun would do them both some good. He tossed the bag out into the diamond and met Bucky in the middle, who was searching out the park. He seemed like he was getting more used to being out in public; he was much less skittish.

Bucky noticed Steve coming back out from behind the bleachers; he smiled, adjusted his baseball cap, and started toward him. Steve smiled back and adjusted his hat as well. Then he picked up a baseball and tossed it to Buck. In one swift movement, he raised his left arm and caught it in the air.

"C'mon Buck, hit me with your best shot." Steve was ready. Bucky smirked and threw the ball as hard as he could to Steve. Steve's expression suddenly changed as the ball whizzed fast toward his head. The ball missed Steve as he utilized his quick reflexes, and instead smashed into the fence behind him. Steve took a deep breath and smiled, forcing his beating heart to stop. He was never afraid of Bucky, even with his Winter Soldier mind and new bionic arm, but he was aware that he did not always know his own strength.

Looking over at Bucky, he could tell he was not fazed. "Sorry, Stevie!" Bucky caught the ball from Steve, and walked forward. "Maybe we should switch." He tossed the ball back to Steve and took his place at the home plate. He picked up the bat and got into the stance, his strong legs positioned. He took in a deep breath and held up the bat, ready for Steve's pitch. The ball came in fast, Steve's strong arms pitching it hard across the field. Just as the ball came close enough, Bucky swung the bat strong, and made contact. The ball flew _yards_ over and past Steve's head, and he marveled as it disappeared from sight.

Looking back at Bucky, Steve could see the greatest smile on his face. The smile that he missed. The smile that snuck up on him when they laughed for hours in Bucky's living room as kids, the smile that called the sunshine through the clouds. It had been too long.

Before much longer, Steve pitched yet another ball at him. Baseball after baseball, Steve continually pitched to Bucky, and each one was hit far and wide, without fail across the field. Bucky continued to laugh as Steve lamely tried to jump high enough to catch one of his fastballs. Steve was good and all, but no match for Bucky's wild swings. Steve didn't even care; Bucky's laugh made it all okay.

Just as Steve came back from retrieving a few of the balls, he noticed that Bucky wasn't holding the bat anymore. "You ready?" Bucky nodded, though he didn't pick up the bat. Steve pitched it anyway, and watched as it approached Bucky, seemingly in slow motion. In what seemed like the very last second, Bucky raised up his left arm, the wiring buzzing through the metal, and smacked the ball as hard as he could with his hand. Within mere seconds, the ball was gone from sight.

Steve simply stared, impressed. Dang. He was strong. All Bucky could do was stand there and smile, glad to impress Steve. Steve didn't care. All that mattered was that Bucky was having fun. That giant grin was all that mattered right now.


	4. All the Power

"Steeeve, Steve!" Bucky yelled between desperate laughs. "Steve, stop it!"

"What, you don't like the way I talk?" After a few too many stove-top s'mores, the "East-coast Employee" had begun to show through Steve. They both knew how it could drive Bucky crazy, especially at 2 a.m. and on sugar. "I'm just gettin' started!"

Bucky was laying down, holding his sides from laughing at this point. Once he got going, it would take a while before his sanity returned. "I work so hard, all day, and what do they pay me? Nuthin'. At the end'a the day, I'm left to return home to my wife and kids with nuthin'. I tell ya, they don't see me."

Bucky finally quit cackling enough to wipe the tears from his eyes and give Steve a playful push. "Whoa!" Steve let go of his accent and his balance as he tumbled off the make-shift mattress he and Bucky had constructed from the couch cushions in Steve's apartment. Just before he fell over the line, Bucky grabbed his forearm and pulled him up.

Steve steadied himself and cleared his throat. "Did you want me to try another one, lad?" His attempt on a British accent was weak at this point, and he knew it.

"No." Bucky chuckled. "You're terrible at that one."

"Yeah, haha." Steve looked down at the plush brown cushions. "Then he slyly slipped his New Yorker back on: "S'pose you're right," and then slid Bucky a little smile. He took a deep breath. Looking up at Bucky, he admitted seriously, "There was an officer, at the funeral. He talked like that."

Bucky held his breath. No, no this would not turn into a night of sorrow, not now. He knew it was still the same weekend of the anniversary of the death Sarah Rogers. And that was why he was there, after all. It was great that Steve was willingly to open up to him right now, but seeing as he had let Steve mope enough on his own, Bucky was to make sure the night did not continue like that. He wasn't there to listen to sob stories; neither of them would make it through like that.

"Rogers, listen." Now that's when Bucky meant business. "We ain't gonna be doin' that tonight. You and me, were having fun tonight."

"Well alright, Buck. What qualifies?"

"I don't know, man." To be honest Bucky truly hadn't thought that far. But he'd do anything in the world with his best friend. "Let's play that, uh, that drawing game!"

Steve smiled mockingly at him. "Buck, you're terrible at that. You make a giraffe look like a mutated non-existent emu."

Bucky almost died right there, tears coming back fast as laughs rose up fast in his chest. "You're so right. I can't even argue." He wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up straight. "Well, why don't we watch something?"

"Like the ceiling?" Steve retorts, turning up towards it. It was true that a ban on manufacturing television and radio equipment for the public had been enacted by the government during the time of war, so not many people had one.

"Or the stars."

"God, Buck, you're such a sap." Steve said, and meant it, but the smile on his face said he didn't mind it. The two bantered back and forth for a while longer, just laying next to each other on the couch cushions on the floor of the quiet apartment complex. Voices got lower and conversations started drifting. Eventually both boys were for quiet for a short time.

"Steve?" Bucky whispered through the dim lighting streaming in from the kitchen. His only response was the staggered snoring coming from the little guy in a white t shirt just a couch cushion away. Bucky watched as the faint outline of Steve's chest rose and fell. He looked so small, his arms thin and void of muscle. He didn't seem strong, not with all his health problems. Many would doubt him. But Bucky knew that Steve Rogers was the strongest guy he had ever met, and one day there would come a moment where everyone else would know that all the power in the world wouldn't be able to shake him.


End file.
